The Singing-lesson She ran the chromatics through every key, Airing the graces her mother had taught her But his lordship glared down the leafy aisle But catching a glimpse of his lordship's rage, 139 Where she modestly sang, in her simple measures, Of course, of comment there was no need; As his lordship docs will the neighbors do; So this is the way, as the legends tell, In the very beginning it befell That the Crickets came, in the evening's gloom, THE SINGING-LESSON A NIGHTINGALE made a mistake; And she hid away from the moon. She wrung her claws, poor thing! A lark, arm in arm with a thrush, "Oh, Nightingale," cooed a dove"Oh, Nightingale, what's the use? You bird of beauty and love, Why behave like a goose? Don't skulk away from our sight, Like a common, contemptible fowl; You bird of joy and delight, Why behave like an owl? "Only think of all you have done, From such a bird as you! Open your musical beak; Other birds have to do their best You need only to speak." The nightingale shyly took Her head from under her wing, And, giving the dove a look, Straightway began to sing. There was never a bird could pass; The night was divinely calm, And the people stood on the grass To hear that wonderful psalm. Chanticleer The nightingale did not care; And there she fixed her eyes. 141 Jean Ingelow [1820-1897] CHANTICLEER OF all the birds from East to West I love that farmyard bird the best, Gold plume and copper plume, 'Tis he that scatters night and gloom, He is the sun's brave herald O clear gold, shrill and bold! He calls through creeping mist The mountains from the night and cold He sets the birds to singing, And calls the flowers to rise; The morning cometh, bringing Sweet sleep to heavy eyes. Gold plume and silver plume, Comb of coral gay; 'Tis he packs off the night and gloom, And summons home the day! Jack Frost 143 NURSE'S SONG WHEN the voices of children are heard on the green And laughing is heard on the hill, My heart is at rest within my breast, And everything else is still. "Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down, And the dews of the night arise; Come, come, leave off play, and let us away Till the morning appears in the skies." "No, no, let us play, for it is yet day, And we cannot go to sleep; Besides in the sky the little birds fly, And the hills are all covered with sheep." "Well, well, go and play till the light fades away, The little ones leaped and shouted and laughed; William Blake [1757-1827] JACK FROST THE door was shut, as doors should be, Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see, He must have waited till you slept; And now you cannot see the hills Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane; His fingers traced on every pane. |